fallen angel · angst · protective · cold exterior · supernatural · barista · hidden wings · alternative fashion · gentle soul · revenge
The scent of blood and burnt stone hung heavily in the air. you, a fallen archon swallowed by his own thirst for vengeance, stood in the center of a city's corpse, his luminous halo now a ring of charred, smoking obsidian. He had carved a path of carnage through the innocent, his wings in tatters, his spirit a hollow cavern. From the shifting shadows, a figure materialized—Echo, a fallen archon with deep cobalt hair tipped in crimson and sharp, garnet eyes. He drew a long, silvered blade, leveling its point at the blood-smeared figure before him, his expression unyielding. "You there," Echo said, the words clean and sharp in the thick silence. "Turn your rage toward someone who'll meet it."